


Tiger Creek

by crossroadswrite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse of the words y'all and ain't, Angst, Axiety, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Substances Abuse, Mentions of suicide attempt, Psychological Trauma, Psychologist!Castiel, Real Places: Tiger Creek - Tyler - Texas - USA, Temporary Character Death, Tiger Sactuary, Tigers, caretaker!Dean, caretaker!Jo, it ain't rlly, it's texas after all, lawyer!Sam, light Violence, there's also a cat latter on, wow this sounds heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/pseuds/crossroadswrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's shrink always tells him he has to accept his reality. Well, his reality is that he got out of jail, he has an awesome job at Tiger Creek, a crazy smart brother, a makeshift family and a dead best friend. Everything's sort of alright except when his best friend comes back from the dead and Dean doesn't know what to do with himself anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean always had a fascination with tigers. He remembers when he was about three years old and his mother led him by the hand through the zoo, pointing at the different animals and prompting Dean into saying their names. Smiling brilliantly when he got them right and correcting him softly when he got confused.  
He remembers how she had led them to the tiger area, the dirty floor that covered it from one side to the other, circled by a high metal fence. He remembers seeing their calmness as the tigers lounged in the floor not giving a shit about everyone around them. He remembers seeing one of those big cats get up and easily jump to one of those playgrounds that the zookeepers set up with tires and large wooden frames. It was imprinted in his mind the way it had done it, like he couldn’t be bothered and then he had lay down, head held high as he surveyed everything around him. His eyes landed on Dean and by that point he was so awed with the animals that he was pretty sure he had gasped.  
His mother had laughed at him then, soft and happy, covering him in kisses. They had stayed looking at the tigers for the best part of the next half hour before his mother made him get moving with promises of pie.  
Dean guesses that that was the prelude to this. If there was any significant point in his lifetime that directed him precisely to this job and this city, that had been it.  
Right now, he’s watching one of the big cats prowling around in his habitat, in the Tiger Creek sanctuary, just outside Tyler, Texas. Sam was one of the first to be admitted and all about him exudes self-earned confidence, like the place is his to take and if someone says something about it he’ll be more than okay to rip their arms off with as much as simple blink.  
Also Dean had a fucking hoot in calling his brother and making hilarious jokes about lion mane and shit, practically earing Sam bitchfacing at him through the phone.  
Sam circles the grounds eyeing the females and letting a low rumble tumble out of his massive throat when one of the younger ones tries to approach him.  
Dean throws an enormous piece of steak through the fence, letting it fall near Sam. The older lion eyes it with interest and hurries to get his muzzle around it.  
Dean can see the other tigers starting to head for it, when he tosses various pieces of steak along and over the fence, so there’s enough for everyone, allowing their assortments of territory and minimizing the damage that they’ll have to handle afterwards.  
When some of the cats got really into each other’s business it had been necessary to sedate them and tend to it, which was all around unpleasant because everyone around Tiger Creek knew that Dean was the best shot of all of them, so he got delegated weapon duty, and for him there was nothing worse than the sickening feeling he got in the pit of his stomach when he aimed at the animals and pressed the trigger.  
Jo, in her khaki shorts and shirt approaches him slowly, a lazy smile playing on her face.  
“Heya Jo.” He greets politely.  
“What’s up knucklehead?” Jo greets playfully.  
“Watch it Harvelle. Just because you’re my cousin now, doesn’t mean I won’t kick your sorry ass.” He throws at her with a light smile.  
Jo snorts “I’d like to see you try, Winchester.” She punches him lightly in the arm and Dean reciprocates in kind.  
Jo punches him again, a little bit harder and Dean grunts “What do you want?”  
“As much as I’d love to let you stare creepily at the tigers, I have to interrupt. Bobby asked if you want to come around and have some dinner. He said he fished something out of the salvage yard and if you’re a good boy, he’ll let you get your hands on it. Also you’re on tour guide duty tomorrow for a bunch of snotty kids. Two teachers coming along as well.”  
Dean snorts “Yeah, I’ll come around for dinner. What’s dinner by the way?”  
“Dunno. Mom said you’d like it though. And before you ask, yes, there’s pie.”  
Dean beams at her “Joanna Beth I could just kiss you.”  
Jo rolls her eyes at him and smacks him in the arm again “Don’t call me that.”  
And just for that, Dean leans over and places a sloppy kiss on her cheek, slobbering her face a bit. Jo makes a disgusted noise and quickly wipes her cheek.  
“Dude, gross. How did I ever had a crush on you?!”  
Dean winks saucily “No one can resist the Dean Winchester charm.” One of the tigers roars behind him and Dean smiles again “See, she agrees with me.”  
“Douchebag!” Jo offers back “Are you driving me home or what? My pick-up broke down this morning and Bobby had to drive me.”  
“Sure.” Dean shrugs, starting to walk towards the main building. Jo follows.  
“And if you’re taking me there you can stay all afternoon, or what’s left of it. We can watch Dr. Sexy M.D. or some other shitty show you like.”  
“Dr. Sexy is a great show.” Dean shoots back automatically “And I can’t Jo. I have a thing.” He says uneasily.  
Jo turns serious “A shrink thing or a parole thing?”  
Dean sighs and he really wishes he didn’t have to answer that “A shrink thing.”  
Jo nods “I guess being someone’s bitch in jail can mess you up.”  
Dean scoffs and throws Jo a dirty look “I wasn’t anyone’s bitch. I could shank you for that Joanna Beth. I can make a weapon out of your own hair.” He threatens.  
If Jo was anybody else making a joke about his time in jail, Dean would’ve punched her in the face by now, but this is Jo and she doesn’t mean real harm.  
“Are you shitting me Winchester? I could take you any time-“ Dean swifts Jo off her feet and throws her over his shoulder as she shrieks and punches him in the back “What the ever-living fuck, Dean! Put me down before I hurt you.”  
Dean ignores her and continues walking, entering the main building with its organized space, the potted plant in a corner, a few waiting chairs, flyers and souvenirs everywhere and one of those round desks in the center.  
He dumps Jo on the desk and smiles broadly at the look the kid behind it gives him.  
“Here’s a little something for ya.” He says to the kid, Kevin he thinks, and walks away with Jo spluttering and jumping from the desk. She follows him and punches him in the shoulder as hard as she can and ouch- that’s gonna hurt tomorrow.  
“You little shit.” She growls, rushing past him through a door which says AUTHORIZED PERSONAL ONLY and entering the locker room, quickly changing clothes.  
Dean laughs at her and slips out of the hideous shorts, because he doesn’t do shorts but apparently it’s part of the workplace policy and he can’t just wear jeans all the time.  
He makes quick work of getting dressed and waits for Jo to finish, so he can drive her home.  
“Ready to go?” he asks when she finally comes out.  
“Yeah, shithead. Drive me home.”  
They both cross the parking lot, getting into Dean’s baby, whose Dean had been neglecting a little bit lately with all the work he’d been getting, alternating between the sanctuary and Singer’s Salvage yard. He coos at her a little bit, stroking the steering wheel until Jo makes a disgusted face and asks if he needs five minutes with his car and some paper tissues.  
Dean throws her dirty look and kicks the car into gear, easing it into the highway and driving towards the city.  
He cranks up Metallica when the tape starts and sings along a little bit. Jo complains about something her mother had said, while snooping around Dean’s car.  
Dean lets her because he forgets, and it isn’t until the glove compartment pops up and Jo falls quiet that Dean remembers it.  
She reaches over and takes the little bottle of pills, throwing a worried look at Dean. He sees her twist the bottle in her hands and read the label.  
Dean sucks a sharp intake of breath because he knows the lecture that follows this.  
“I thought you were getting better.” Jo says calmly, looking disappointed.  
“I am. Those are a doctor’s prescription, Jo.”  
Jo shakes the bottle in his face “These are anti-depressives, Dean.” She throws back accusingly.   
Dean grips the steering wheel hard, making his knuckles turn white due to the lack of blood flow. Jo has absolutely no place in judging Dean, and he has to grit his teeth and resist the urge not to tell her to fuck off, because he knows deep down, the part of him that his rational and does the therapy exercises, that she only complains because she cares.  
“So? It’s not like I’m and addict or anything. I just need those to keep me up.”  
And just why in the fuck should he be justifying himself?! It’s his godamn life and since everything he touches seems to die, he is entitled to some fucking prescription drugs to let him pull through it.  
“Does Sam know about these?” and isn’t that a cheap shot. Completely below the waist, Joanna Harvelle.  
Dean grips the steering wheel a little tighter “Jo, drop it.”  
“I just-“  
“I’m serious Jo.” He interrupts “I’ve been going to fucking therapy and I’ve let the fucking shrink poke around my brain. I’ve been good. No bar fights or anything. So just let this fucking go or I’ll stop the car and let you drag your ass the rest of the way home.” He threatens.  
Jo sighs heavily, and tucks the pills back in place.  
“I just don’t want this to end like last time.”  
Dean swallows hard and lets the guilt swallow him, as he looks at Jo’s troubled face. And shit, he made Jo upset.  
“It’s not like last time.” He whispers, and it’s really not. He’s serious when he tells her he’s doing better.  
“I can’t do that again, Dean. I can’t just sit around in a hospital and wait to see of the doctors can pump all of the poison that you swallow down with whiskey.”  
Dean pressed his lips together and slackens a bit his hold on the steering wheel. He reaches over, a palm against the back of Jo’s neck, thumb stroking softly. It’s more of a brotherly gesture than anything else.  
“I’m better Jo. Seriously. That won’t happen again. Promise.”  
Jo nods, but keeps her eyes looking at the road ahead of them. She sighs heavily and shakes her head.  
Yeah, at least he’s actually trying this time.  
«»  
Missouri looks up at him from her notepad and glares, pointedly looking at the knee Dean’s been bouncing for the past ten minutes.  
“Sorry.” He mutters, looking back down.  
The woman is scary as shit.  
“What’s wrong, honey?”  
Dean smiles a little bit at the moniker. For all the shit that Missouri gives him, she cares for him and he’s pretty sure that he’s one of her favorites.  
“I had a fight with Jo.” He says, voice barely above a whisper.  
Missouri lifts an eyebrow and waits for him to elaborate.  
“About the medication. She thinks I’ll jump off the deep end again.”  
Missouri stares at him some more, not saying a word and Dean’s knee starts to bounce again.  
“I’m not going to fall over the deep end. I’m not.” He assures her, or maybe he’s trying to assure himself. Either way he won’t do it again.  
“How many of those did you take today?” Dean flinches, and shit he can swear the woman has some sort of psychic powers or something.  
He wiggles in his sit uncomfortably. “Two.”  
Missouri shakes her head almost imperceptibly and asks the million dollar question “Why?”  
Dean has to keep himself from snorting because that’s about standard issue for psychologists and in some way every time she asks him why or counters one question with another he has to fight the need to snort at her.  
“Because.” He answers feeling five years old all over again.  
“Dean Winchester do not give me that attitude boy. I know you since you were in diapers. Don’t make me whack you with a spoon.” She threatens.  
Dean shrinks further into the soft couch and not for the first time thanks whatever higher force that Missouri prefers hosting his appointments in her living room where everything is familiar and there’s always a cup of tea in the coffee table in front of him.  
“I thought I saw him.” He whispers “Earlier, I thought I saw him.” He swallows and looks down because he’s crazy. There are absolutely zero chances he could’ve seen him.  
“Oh, honey.” Missouri sighs sympathetically “When you loose someone it’s common to see them everywhere. Your heart is not ready to face the fact that they’re no longer with us.”  
Dean nods along with her words. Although he doesn’t agree with them, because he has a sharp vision and it’s been years since it happened. Sure he was driving and it had been fast. Just a mess of dark hair and the sweep of a tan trench coat entering a building.  
“Dean.” Missouri sighs, tiptoeing the fine line between patience and impatiently throwing a spoon at Dean’s head “You have to face your reality. Maybe it’ll help if you say it out loud.” Missouri prompts him.  
He turns his head to the side, looking out of the window. He hates this part so fucking much. So fucking much! But Missouri makes him do it every appointment and that means that twice or thrice a week Dean as to accept his reality.  
He huffs a breath heavily and watches the scenery. The kid riding his bike down the street, the trees in Missouri’s front yard and the green grass covering it.  
“Do you want me to mow your lawn?” he asks suddenly “Because I could do that. Easy-peasy. Wouldn’t charge anything. And you can’t let the grass get too tall because it’ll-“  
“Dean!” Missouri looks annoyed and sad “You have to say it. It’s been years, baby. You can’t keep hanging on to that. To him.” Dean clenches his fists and for a moment he’s really tempted to storm out of Missouri’s house, but he doesn’t. He makes himself remain in his place and breathe slowly through his nose.  
Because even though Missouri makes him do shit like this, he knows that’s the best for him. That it helps. In the begging, when he had gotten out of jail, he couldn’t even force himself to leave the house. Not when everything outside reminded him of all the shit that God or fate or whatever the fuck had taken away from him. Missouri helped him then. Guided him, patiently waited for him, yelled and smacked him around when he needed to. She’s the reason why Dean has an amazing job studying big cats and she’s the reason why he can get up in the morning and she’s the reason why his life is back on the tracks, sort of.  
Missouri pulled him up even when he pumped his stomach full of pills and waited for them to take him away.  
Missouri knows what’s best.  
So he takes a deep breath and unclenches his fists.  
“My name is Dean Winchester. I’m in Tyler, Texas and it’s” he glances at the grandfather’s clock on the opposite wall “seven thirty in the afternoon. I got out of jail about a year and a half ago. My mother died when I was four.” He swallows hard “My father passed away while I was in jail. Cas-“ his voice cracks; his hands start to shake, and he wills them to stop. Swallows down hard, past the lump in his throat “Castiel was murdered at the same time I got arrested.” He breathes through his noise and carefully erases the signs that he’s lying before he says the next thing “It wasn’t my fault.” He breathes slowly “I was bad, but I’m better now. I’ve got a job and Sammy and my baby and my family here. I’ll be okay.”  
Missouri nods approvingly and gives him a pained smile “I know you don’t like this, honey. But you have to understand that it is how it is. I hate to be the one that has to tell you this, but Castiel isn’t coming back and I know how much you cared about that boy, but sometimes bad things happen to good people. That’s just how it is.”  
Dean stays quiet and nods, hands already hitching to reach for the bottle on the glove compartment and swallow two more pills, but he knows he won’t. He has Sammy to think about and Jo and Bobby and Ellen. And he’ll have dinner with his little borrowed family and have fun.  
And he’ll forget about how he got his best friend killed.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean rolls his eyes, throwing one arm over his little brother’s shoulders.  
“Whatever you say, Sammy. I still think that she’s got the hots for ya.” He leers at him, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.  
Sam huffs at him and throws his arm off his shoulders.  
“Ruby doesn’t have the hots for me, Dean. We’re just friends.” He protest.  
“Riiiiight. You need to face it Sammy. That girl wants to get in your panties. She practically sat on your lap at lunch.”  
Sam snorts “Yeah, because you and Cas sit at such a respectable distance from each other. Tell me Dean do you want to get into Castiel’s pants too?”  
Dean trips over his feet and blushes “Shut up, Sammy. Me and Cas are friends. You know that.”  
“Right.” Sam drawls “It’s not like you spend every single waking minute having eyesex with each other- oh, wait! You dooooo.”  
Dean grunts and glares “Whatever I don’t like Cas like that. And how did we end up talking about me and Cas. Let’s get back to you and Ruby.”  
“Seriously Dean.” Sam stops him in his tracks, standing in front of him with his books clutched to his chest “You’re still in denial.”  
“”I’m not in denial. Me and Cas are just not li-“  
“Oh, hey Cas.” Sam interrupts, looking over his shoulder.  
Dean’s head snaps back so fast that he probably pulled something. His eyes skim the streets behind them expecting to find a mess of dark hair and a pair of the bluest eyes, but the one thing he finds his an old lady with a walker complaining to her husband about the weather and how it’s making her knees ache.  
Dean turns slowly around, putting every single thing he has in the glare he sends Sammy’s way.  
“You fucker.” He growls while Sam laughs at him.  
“Me and Cas are not like that.” He parrots making a poor impression of Dean’s voice.  
“Fuck you very much, Sammy.” He says turning on his heels and walking towards the Impala, leaving Sam to try and catch up.  
“Oh, come on Dean. You have to admit that you have the hots for Cas. I mean, you spend almost as much time with him as you spend with me, maybe a little more and that’s saying something.” Sam complains, catching up with him and getting into the passenger seat.  
Dean starts the car and cranks up Zeppelin as loud as it’ll go, ignoring Sam as he drives on.  
He grips the steering wheel tightly and stares right ahead ignoring completely his brother. He’s fucking pissed at Sammy for pulling this shit. In part because he knows Sammy’s right and he hates it when Sam’s right.  
“Where are we going?” Sam asks suddenly, when Dean misses the turn to their house.  
He purses his lips and his hands twitch nervously on the steering wheel.  
“I promised Cas I would pick him up.” He mutters.  
“What?” Sam asks, brows furrowed as he tries to decipher what Dean just said. He probably couldn’t hear him over the loud music.  
Sam reaches for the radio and lowers the volume “What was that?”  
“I said: we’re going to pick up Cas.”  
Sam gives him a smug look and Dean has to bite back the need to flip him the bird.  
“Whatever. His family is driving him crazy and he needs to get out of that stuffy house more. I swear to God he’s the palest dude in all of Texas.” Dean shakes his head fondly.  
“Dean-“ Sam starts, looking at him in earnest with those big puppy eyes and shit he’s going to try and have a moment won’t he?  
“No chick-flick moments Sam.” He interrupts before his brother can start talking about their feelings or whatever.  
“But Dean-“  
“I said quit it Samantha. If you want to braid your hair and talk about boys while taking Cosmo quizzes, I’m sure you can do that with Ruby.” He bites, because seriously he’s so not having this conversation with his baby brother. It’s bad enough that Sam found out that Dean is an equal opportunist when it comes to his sexuality but Sammy has to push him in this Cas business too.  
Dean grimaces when he remembers how Sam had found out. Poor kid would be scarred for life. Finding your brother with his pants down and his hand down some guy’s pants was not something little brothers were supposed to see. Poor kid hadn’t managed to look Zeke straight in the face since then.  
Sam huffs from his seat and crosses his arms and maybe Dean went a little too far right there.  
He reaches over and ruffles Sammy’s hair “Come on dude. You know that Cas has the whole nut-job super religious family thing going on. He’s scared shitless of his older brothers, not to mention his father.” Sam opens his mouth, but Dean quickly gives him a hard look before he continues, returning his eyes to the road “And even if he was interested – which he’s probably not – I can’t make it harder to him just because I get a little hot under the collar when I see him.”  
Dean heaves and heavy sigh because fucking Sam pretty much made him have a chick-flick moment just by pouting at him. Fucking little brothers and their puppy eyes.  
“What if it wasn’t a problem?” he asks quietly “What if Cas’ family didn’t mind and Cas was, uh, ready or whatever?”  
Dean gives him a one shoulder shrug “Then I guess we could give it a shot, maybe. But you know what Sammy? If you keep thinking what ifs then you’re screwed. You just gotta make do with the hand life dealt you and bluff and bullshit your way through it with a mean poker face until you can make it your bitch.”  
Sam rolls his eyes “As always I’m astounded with your eloquence and wisdom.”  
Dean snorts “Take it while you can, ‘cause when you go to college, you’ll be a big shot lawyer and marry a nice girl and we’ll only talk once a week and on holidays and you’ll come over with your wife and your two point five kids smelling like fresh cut grass and money.” Dean told him and Sam rolled his eyes again, that hopeful look washing over his face. The same one he got every time Dean talked about him going to college like it was a sure thing. Like they could make it happen even without his dad’s support. Well, Dean was pretty invested in getting his little brother in college, even if he had to quit high school and take that job with Bobby in the salvage yard.  
Dean makes a right on the next street and enters the expensive part of the city; from there it’s only a couple minutes until they get to Cas’s house. A big fucking mansion all painted pearly white with a garden that was cut by some landscaping architect or some shit.  
He parks in front of it and honks loudly receiving a mortified glare from Sam who looks around nervously to see if there are people looking at them.  
Dean laughs at his little brother and cracks Zeppelin back up, receiving Sam’s patented what-the-fucking-shit-did-you-lost-your-fucking-mind look or how Dean liked to call it Bitch Face nº5.  
He ignores Sam’s complains and swats his hand away when he tries to lower the volume down.  
He looks towards the house just as the front door opens and Castiel comes rushing out with his messenger’s bag throw over his shoulder, a smile appearing on his face when he spots Dean parked there in his baby.  
Cas quickens his pace a little bit, until he reaches his baby, throwing open the back door and getting in.  
“Hello, Dean.” He all but shouts over the music “Sam.” He says turning to his little brother and nodding his head once.  
Dean smirks “Heya, Cas.” He screams back, smoothly starting his baby up again and hearing her purr satisfyingly before making a u turn and heading back the same street they had entered. It was one of those fancy streets that ended with a big ass mansion and old dude that liked to yell at kids to get the fuck out of his lawn.  
It’s only when they’re at a respectable distance from Cas’s house that he lowers the music back to a respectable volume, looking back at Cas with the biggest smirk.  
“So,” he starts “did your family get upset by my redneck badboy ways?” he asks teasingly.  
“Oh, most definitely.” Cas says excitedly because for all his talk one of Cas’ (and admittedly Dean’s too) favorite past times is too rile up Mr. and Mrs. We-have-Noah’s-walking-stick-up-our-asses “You should’ve seen Michael’s face.” He grins at him “Gabriel laughed his ass off, he even gave me his candy.” Cas says with as much awe as someone would talk about a polar bear hugging a seal.  
“Whoa? Gabriel gave you candy. That’s a first.” He laughs “How’s the little shit anyway?”  
“He’s good. He’s got a new girlfriend. Khali, I think.”  
“Yeah I know who you’re talking about. Chick’s fucking scary, figures she’ll be just up Gabe’s alley.”  
Cas grins and nods his head, leaning back against his seat and sighing deeply, like he just got home after a hard day’s work.  
Dean smiles at the sight through the review mirror “So, you ready for some pizza and Star Wars marathon?”  
“Sounds like just what I need.” Castiel replies and Dean smiles a little wider while Sam is looking at him disbelievingly.  
Dean decides to continue ignoring him and drive, adjust the volume and sneaking glances at the blue eyed guy in his back seat.  
«»  
Dean drives to Bobby’s calmly, singing Zeppelin absent mindedly as he goes, fingers tapping the beat against the steering wheel.  
He and Missouri had talked a little bit more until it was time for Dean to leave. They’d parted with a warm motherly hug from Missouri’s side and a piece of her to-die-for apple pie. Dean had his mouth watering just from the scent that came from the little lidded box in the passenger’s seat. Having a piece of treasured pie also meant that he couldn’t drive too fast, afraid he’d ruin it.  
So he drove slowly through the city, trying his best to stop thinking about anything that could possibly trigger one trip to the bottle of magic friends that he still had stashed in the glove compartment.  
When he finally arrives to Bobby it’s progressively getting darker outside, the street lamps lightning up and showing him the way to Bobby’s driveway.  
After he married Ellen, she’d made him move to a decent house with her instead of staying in his old house in the middle of the junkyard. “I won’t have the ceiling falling on my head while I cook your god damned chilly Bobby Singer, so you’re moving in with me and that’s final.” She had said one day, and after that Bobby had grumbled a bit and obeyed because honestly Ellen could be a scary lady when she wanted to, which was almost all the time. Good thing that it was one of the things that Bobby liked best in her.  
Dean parks his car carefully and maneuvers himself out, juggling the pie in one hand and closing the door with the other.  
He pats his Baby and smooths his thumb over the roof whispering softly a “Be right back, sweetheart.”  
“Dean.” Ellen greets him throwing the door open and moving to remove the pie from his hand before he can even get out a ‘hi’ “What the hell took you so long boy?” she asks chastising.  
Dean shrugs and gives her that one crooked smile that he knows she secretly loves “I had a thing. I told Jo ‘bout it. Ain’t my fault she forgot to tell ya.”  
Ellen rolls her eyes at him and presses her lips together to prevent from smiling.  
“She told me, I just didn’t think you’d be cooped up in there for so long.” She throws back, her expression getting serious and Dean knows by heart what’s coming next, he’s so used to it that it almost causes a sense of déjà vu “How you doin’?” she asks calmly.  
“I’m good, Ellen. She even gave me pie and everything and that’s as good as a golden star.”  
Ellen presses her lips again, this time in apprehension and moves forward to hug him. Dean lets her because it’s in equal parts for her and his benefit.  
“You’re such a huggy bear Dean-o.” Jo teases from somewhere in the house.  
Dean lets go of Ellen abruptly and enters the house with a “Joanna Beth get your ass in here.”  
Jo laughs when he enters the living room “What up, can’t take light teas-“  
Dean advances towards her with a smirk and before she can even finish her sentence, he hugs her, lifting her feet of the ground and twirling her a bit. And Jo honest to God shrieks right in his fucking ear and okay, ow.  
He squeezes her tightly until she hugs him back “You know you’re just proving my point don’t you Winchester.”  
He snorts “Shut up Harvelle. You’re loving this.”  
Dean lets her go, putting her back on the ground with a smile and ruffling her hair a little bit. Jo kicks him for his trouble.  
“Now that you’re done with the love fest maybe you could get your ass in the kitchen and actually help around boy. Some people have real jobs ya know that.”  
“Hey! I have a real job.” Dean objects moving to the kitchen and throwing the cupboard open, taking out four plates.  
“Playin’ with cats all day don’t sound like a real job to me.” Bobby bitches at him, handing the silverware over and a pile of napkins.  
“Aw, are you missing me at the shop. That it Bobby?” He teases “If I knew you were so needy I’d stay with ya.”  
“Idjit.” Bobby grunts and Dean makes his strategic retreat to the dining room which is actually connected to the kitchen, since Ellen had thrown the wall separating the two divisions down.  
He sets the plates down and passes the silverware to Jo, before he stars folding the napkins in neat triangles.  
Ellen brings a steaming tray of lasagna to the table and Dean practically drools all over it, before Ellen snaps at him and tells him to “just take a piece for fuck’s suck Dean Winchester you look like a godamned dog”.  
Dean obeys readily, wolfing it down and filling his plate two more times before Ellen tells him he’s going to get fat and eaten by one of his tigers.  
Dean stops eating the lasagna and moves to Ellen’s and Missouri’s pies - apple and strawberry –receiving a snort from Bobby and a disgusted sound from both the Harvelle women.  
It’s good, spending time with this little makeshift family he got for himself, seating down together at a table where everyone trusted everyone and you didn’t have to watch your food for hidden razors and broken glass.  
They joke and talk and it’s the best Dean felt in a long while. Ellen asks about Sammy and when can they see him again and he tells her that they’ll probably see him when he finally finds the balls to pop Jess the big question.  
And then, after they clean up the table and Dean gives a hand doing the dishes, Bobby leads him to the garage and flicks on the light, presenting a banged up motorcycle in one corner of it.  
Dean sucks in a sharp breath and moves forwards carefully, running his fingers through the handlebars and grinning like a madman.  
“Bobby. You shouldn’t-“  
“Shut up and just take it, boy.” He snaps, coming closer and patting the beauty on the side “Missouri talked to me. She said it might be good for you to have a project besides that zoo of yours. This was just rotting away in one corner of the salvage yard after some knucklehead banged her up.”  
“She’s gorgeous.” He breathes taking in the aspect of the bike in front of him. It’s more than a little banged up. The paint is peeling in places and it has dents peppering her here and there. Dean’ll have to give her a more thorough look to see what’s wrong with her insides and honestly he can’t wait “Harley Davidson softail FLSTFI Fat Boy.” He says reverently, like a prayer.  
“’04 model.” Bobby nods.  
“Do you two want a room.” Jo teases behind them, peeking over Dean’s shoulder and sighing deeply when she sees the gorgeous “Harley Davidson?” she asks and nods her head to herself when she sees the logo in the gas tank “You gonna let me ride her. When she’s ready?” she asks hopefully, doing her best impression of Sammy’s puppy eyes.  
“Maybe.” Dean is still basking in the glory of the piece of machinery in front of him.  
“We could get bikes, run away from my crazy ass family and travel around. Maybe ge a pick-up truck for when it rains.” Cas had said dreamily “I’d get a Harley Davidson Fat Boy. Blue. Or maybe red.”  
Dean smiles fondly when he remembers, still stroking the beauty.  
“Cas’ favorite bike.” He whispers and he can practically feel the air around the room snap and everyone tense up, waiting for him to break down and he can’t say how proud he is of himself when he only smiles wider.  
“Bobby” he says “you’re awesome.”  
The tension in the room eases up again and Jo beams at him proudly, giving him one armed hug.  
“When it’s done, I’m totally stealing it.” She promises with a smirk.  
Dean snorts “I’d like to see you try.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was supposed to be up last weekend, but my dad thought it'd be fun to poison my pup, so I had to nurse Alfie back to health. Anyways, here it is and I'll try to regularly update.

_Azazel sneers down at them, gun decidedly pointed at Dean’s head._  
  
“I want my money, Winchester!” he spits out. Dean swallows hard, stepping in front of Cas and his little brother, trying to cover both of them.  
  
“I don’t have your fucking money, Azazel,” he grits out, hands up in a pacifying gesture.  
  
“Well, too fucking bad. Your little brother used it, you have to pay it or I’ll blow your brains out.”  
  
“I can’t pay you. I don’t have any money. Please put the gun down,” he pleads.  
  
“Do you think I’m dumb? I saw how you hustled pool the other day. I know that you made at least a hundred grand easy, splaying your pretty little ass for those men. Tell me does your mommy knows how you display yourself like a piece of meat,” he taunts, wide, twisted smile stretching his lips.  
  
“I spent it,” he tries.  
  
“Liar,” Azazel spits “I know you still have it Winchester, so unless you want me to go tell daddy dearest how your little brother likes to shot up you better pay me.”  
  
Dean takes a deep breath, throwing a glance over his shoulder. Cas has one arm around Sam protectively, jaw set and murder in his eyes with a touch of fear. Sammy’s eyes are bloodshot, sniffing a couple of times, nose twitching, probably still riding his high.  
  
When they get home Dean’s going to pound his fucking face in. His and that chick of his that got him into this mess in the first place.  
  
“Okay,” he says “I’ll give you the money, but I don’t have it with me,” Whatever, Sam and him can go without eating for a couple of weeks if it means that they’ll still be alive “I need to go get it.”  
  
“Do you think I’m an idiot? You’re going straight into the station to rat me up.”  
  
“Do you think I just carry a hundred bucks in my fucking pocket?! ‘Sides I wouldn’t want word on Sammy to get out so I won’t rat you out? What good would it make any way?!”  
  
Azazel looks him over, assessing the situation.  
  
“Fine,” he decides “but Sam stays here. For leverage.”  
  
“Like hell!” he growls, making Azazel smile that much wider.  
  
“I’ll stay,” it’s quietly said, just loud enough so Dean can hear it. He turns back and glares at Castiel who’s looking stubborn and decided. Righteous, and fuck if Dean doesn’t hate it right now.  
  
“Cas, no one is staying,” he says, putting as much command behind his voice as he can.  
  
“I’ll stay,” Cas says again “for Sam. You can go home and get the money. He won’t do anything to me.”  
  
“You don’t know that,” Dean argues.  
  
“It’ll be okay,” and just like that a Cas steps away from Sam, giving the younger Winchester a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, before he moves towards Azazel, fingertips brushing Dean’s when he passes by him, linking their fingers for just a moment and trying to smile for Dean “You better make it quick, Winchester. I wouldn’t want to miss that date we had planned,” he winks and moves towards Azazel.  
  
Dean watches his- whatever Cas is to him now, stand close to the drug dealer, a gun trained on his stomach, before he walks away and hates himself for it. Will always hate himself for it.  
  
That’s the last time he’ll see Cas smile that secret smile he saves just for Dean, like a secret. Something kept and guarded and treasured.  
  
That’s the moment when Dean Winchester’s life is sort of stable and in just half an hour everything he’s ever known will collapse on the floor, will shatter and break into a thousand million pieces, some he’ll never manage to put back together.  
  
«»  
  
Dean has everything set and ready to go.  
  
The projector is on, the power point with the pictures of all the kitties as well as some fun facts about tigers is all set to go, he double checked if they had enough chairs for everyone and Jo is waiting on stand-by near the front desk to let him know when the little trouble makers will be arriving.  
  
As much as he knows, there’ll be twenty three kids and two teachers. Or, to be more exact, a teacher and a child psychologist since the other teacher that was supposed to come called with the sniffles.  
  
He’s cool with it, really. He knows most of the teachers from the school that’ll be visiting, some because they get around in the same social circles Dean does, some have been here before, some from the times when Dean reads to kids in the public library (thing he did as community work and then just kept going when the program was over) and some that helped him get all he needed to get this nice gig taking care of kittie cats.  
  
He only hopes it’s not Lisa. Even though she’s nice enough, Dean really doesn’t want any awkward encounters with his old high school sweet heart. The one he used to date before she dumped him, claiming he didn’t pay her enough attention and “if only you looked at me the way you look at that churchboy of yours” quickly followed by a sigh and a look of regret.  
  
Or Aaron who has taken upon himself trying to fluster Dean every chance he gets, smiling coyly and flirting shamelessly.  
  
“Incoming,” Jo hollers from the door before moving away and back to her dutties.  
  
The steps outside, plastering on his most pleasant I’m-not-a-pedophile smile. Some teachers get weird when they get a male tour guide, but whatever.  
  
The buys packed with kids rolls around and parks in one of the wide spaces, in just a moment the doors woosh open and kids stream down of them, giggling and shoving and talking way too loud this early in the morning.  
  
One teacher is shushing them, trying to round them up, before looking apologetically at Dean.  
  
“I thought there would be two of you,” he smiles, smiling as the woman struggles to count the children.  
  
She huffs a little “Yeah, the other one is just inside, making sure everyone is out and talking with the driver about schedules and such.”  
  
Dean nods, before clapping his hands once loudly and using his dad voice, and when he says dad voice he means military orders his dad used to yell at him.  
  
“All right, kids!” he makes his voice boom above the squealing little brats “Gather around or you’ll get behind,” the kids continue squealing, even if a few quiet down and join him, looking up eagerly “HEY, WHO WANTS TO SEE SOME TIGERS?” he all but shouts and this time everyone quiets down and turns to him, little hands up in the air, some of the kids vocally expressing just how much they want to see the big cats “All righty then,” he beams up at them “everyone stay put so this lovely lady right here, Miss-“ he quirks an eyebrow at the teacher.  
  
“Andrea,” she supplies.  
  
“Miss Andrea can count to see if none of you got lost on their way out, then I’ll show y’all a little clip and teach you about tigers and how many of ‘em we actually have here. Any questions before we start?”  
  
A little girl raises her hand decidedly.  
  
Dean smiles a little, normally the kids stay quiet for the first part.  
  
“And what’s your name sweetheart?”  
  
“Krissy,” she answers confidently “What’s your name, sweetheart?” she parrots back, receiving a scowl from the teacher and a snort from Dean.  
  
“Winchester. Dean Winchester.”  
  
The little girl nods, blowing a wayward lock of hair out of her eyes “Will we get free stuff when the tour ends?” she asks, smiling blindingly and batting her eyelashes a little bit.  
  
“Krissy,” Andrea admonishes “that’s not very nice.”  
  
“It’s okay,” he waves her off “and if you behave properly, then yes, you may get something.”  
  
The kids whoop and start murmuring excitedly to each other with the new prospect of getting free stuff.  
  
“Alright! Right now if y’all could just follow me inside where there’s air conditioning that’d be awesome.”  
  
He turns and leads the kids to the little room already equipped with everything they need.  
  
It’s a little while until all the kids including Andrea are sat down and quiet enough so Dean can start talking.  
  
He’s in the second slide telling them how Tiger Creek came to be when Jo burst through the door, eyes wide with panic and zeroed in on Dean.  
  
He frowns at her “Kids, this is Joanna Beth. But she goes by Jo. She works here with me and steals all my French friend which is not very nice,” he informs them.  
  
Jo strides towards him, worry washing over her face.  
  
“Dean, are you okay?”  
  
His frown deepens “Why wouldn’t I be?”  
  
Jo opens her mouth to speak, but his cut off by the front door opening again, the child psychologist presumably.  
  
Dean gets a glimpse of a trench coat and messy dark hair, impossible blue eyes, before Jo steps in front of him and completely block his view.  
  
It can’t be. He’s hallucinating. There’s absolutely no way. Cas is dead Cas is deadCasisdeadCasisdead.  
  
“Jo,” he chokes out “I- I think I need-“ he looks over Jo’s shoulder and for the second time in his life Dean Winchester’s world is torn to pieces, because there he is.  
  
Castiel, just standing there near the doorway, dear-in-the-headlights look on his face as his eyes focus slowly on Dean.  
  
No nononono. He needs his meds. He’ll take them and Cas’ll disappear and he can go back to teaching these kids how awesome tigers really are.  
  
He takes an unconscious step back, Jo following right after him, whispering an urgent “Dean!” a hand on his elbow and tugging him away. Except he can’t get away, never really could with those impossible blue eyes just staring at him, locking his own, drowning him.  
  
He pats his pockets and feels what he was searching for the little bottle he has stashed there for emergencies, he fishes it out and fumbles to open it, hands shaky.  
  
“Dean, please,” Jo pleads, tugging him harder “don’t do that. Not again. Look at the kids,” she urges.  
  
Dean shakes his head “I can make him go away, easy, it’s so easy. A couple of pills and he’ll go away. That’s how it works. Just a couple and he’ll go away. No more ghosts. I won’t do that to Sammy. I can’t do that to Sammy. Dad did that and I can’t and Sammy’s so smart. He’ll go places and when he has a girl and kids I’ll join Cas. When no one needs me anymore I’ll meet him up there,” he babbles, taking two pills from the box and getting ready to shove them in his mouth when Jo twists his arm behind his back forcefully and makes him turn away, leading out the door with an iron grip.  
  
«»  
  
 _He gets home and doesn’t find the money. Dean ends up trashing his room and most of the house looking for it._  
  
“What ya doin’, boy?” his dad slurs from the couch, three new bottles of Jacks lying next to him. One of them already almost drained and the other two still closed, thank goodness.  
  
“Where’s the money?” he urges, dread washing over him, and he knows the answer just before it leaves his dad’s mouth.  
  
“Oh, I spent it in a couple of pain killers,” he chuckles waving the bottle a little.  
  
“Where’s the rest of it?” Dean almost yells, getting a sour look from his father “There were these guys at the bar playing pool and they didn’t seem to play for shit,” his dad smiles drunkenly “guess I ‘s wrong,” he hiccups and slumps back against the couch.  
  
“Dean!” Sam says urgently, apparently aware enough of the situation right now “Ohmygod, Dean! What are we going to do?!”  
  
“I don’t know!” he screams at his little brother, watching him wince and recoil and shit he did that. He didn’t mean to do that.  
  
«»  
  
Jo takes the bottle away from his hands, all the control Dean has over the situation going with it and he lets himself slump against the wall and slide down to the floor. His hands are shaking badly and he knows he’ll cry, can feel the tears welling up behind his eyes just before they spill over.  
  
«»  
  
 _“What do you mean, you don’t have the money?” Azazel snarls, a hand grabbing Cas roughly and the other holding the gun against Cas’s back._  
“I can get you the money. Just give me time, I swear,” he pleads, eyes locked on Cas’s. His friend swallows hard and looks back, incapable of doing anything else really.  
  
“Bullshit!”  
  
“Please, my dad spent it, but I can get you your money. Maybe even double. Just give me time, I promise I’ll get you the money.”  
  
Azazel snarls at him, digging the gun deeper against his friend’s back and making him whimper. Dean takes half a step forward.  
  
«»  
  
“Dean,” Jo sounds wrecked, worried and pained. She looks like she’s watching someone beat the shit out of a puppy “He’s really here. He’s not dead.”  
  
“Don’t do that,” he pleads, sobbing “don’t lie to me. Please, Jo. I can’t- I can’t-“ and then he breaks down like he had so many times before. Tears streaming down his face and sobs racking his body and he absolutely fucking hates how weak he is.  
  
Because Cas is dead. He saw it with his eyes, he felt the blood between his fingers and could feel the fine trembling of Cas’s body when he tried to stop the bleeding, the sobs and muttered, jumbled words that Dean couldn’t piece together over his heart pounding in his ears.  
  
His breathing is coming faster until he’s wheezing trying to gulp hair down, get enough inside his lungs. But he feels trapped, feels like there’s something squeezing his lungs, constricting them until he can’t breath.  
  
“Not again. I can’t again,” he babbles.  
  
Jo takes his face in both hands and brings their faces close. Makes Dean focus on her eyes only.  
  
“Listen to me, Dean. He’s alive. Castiel is alive and he’s inside. It’s going to be alright,” she promises, thumb stroking his cheek soothingly.  
  
«»  
  
 _He’s not really sure of what happens next, except for some reason, Cas twists in Azazel’s hold and the gun goes off, blowing a whole in Cas’s stomach, blood splattering across Dean’s shirt and pants._  
  
Cas goes down hard. Hits the floor with a gasp, eyes blown wide with fear and pain, trying to get something out. The begginging of a sentence that he won’t finish.  
  
Azazel takes off.  
  
Dean has enough presence of mind to rush towards Cas, one hand pressing against the wound and the other reaching to call and ambulance. Trying to keep his friend safe, trying to keep him alive.  
  
The following minutes are just a continuous stream of Dean’s pleas for Cas to be okay and tears, until the ambulance comes and takes Cas away.  
That’s the last time he sees him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was not proof-read because I am currently freaking out about my phylosophy test. If you see any mistakes please let me knows.
> 
> See the notes at the end of the chapter for a wee bit more on what went on in here.

Everything seems too much. It’s too much and he can’t take it, he needs relief, something to make it all go away. He needs a drink.

“Dean,” Jo pleads, both hands pressing on his knees and no. He _can’t_ need a drink. He needs to concentrate. He needs to get over himself.

Swallowing hard, he presses both hands against his thighs and squeezes, closes his eyes and tires to focus, but no closing his eyes is a bad idea, a terrible idea. He snaps his eyes open right back, and looks down at his hands relieved that there’s no blood on them.

Feel the floor beneath your feet and ass. He’s here, he’s not back there. There’s a wall supporting him, cool against his back and hard when he smacks his head against it, a little too hard and desperately. He can do this.

In through his nose and out through his mouth.

There’s floor beneath his feet. Dirty floor that will stain his jeans. There’s a wall against his back. Cold to the touch. In through his nose and out through is mouth. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Jo’s trying to shake him, phone out and frantically pressing buttons. Jo’s here and he’s here. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.

He needs to focus. Pick three red or blue things. Red red red. Red is no good. Red is the blood on his hands, when he presses them against Cas’ stomach. His breathing quickens again and shit _no_ he has to focus.

Three blue things, three blue things.

Blue is the sky above him. Blue is the bird perching on that three. Blue is Cas’ eyes as the light in them bleeds out and he’s losing him. He’s losing his best friend all over again. Nonononono.

Dean looks at Jo, who’s staring right back, looking panicked and scared and shit he did that. He has no right to do that. This is all his fault. All of it all of it all of it.

He tries again.

Jo’s top is green. Green is good, he can work with green.

Jo’s top is green. The school bus is painted mostly green. The tree just far down the lot is green.

Jo’s top, school bus, tree. They’re green. He’s here. Nothing can hurt him here. It’s okay. In through in nose and out through his mouth. Again.

He squeezes his thighs, he’s here. He made it out.

Dean gives a few more seconds to himself, focusing on his breathing only. When he’s sure he’s not going to start hyperventilating again, he reaches out a hand and places it over Jo’s own hand.

“I’m good,” he breathes out shakily “I think-“ Dean stops, licks his lips, squeezes his thighs “I think I need a hospital. I s-saw C- _him._ Maybe I should be in the loony bin, just like you said” he tries to smile and fails miserably at it, if Jo’s expression is anything to go by.

“Dean he’s- he’s really there,” Jo says.

Dean promptly pushes her away and brings his knees to his chest “Don’t do that,” he chokes, “don’t lie to me, please Jo, I can’t- I can’t handle you lying to me, please-“

Jo steps forward again, getting in his personal bubble “I’m not lying,” she tells him assuredly “I swear I’m not. I saw him to,” he recoils when she tries to touch him, but Jo’s a stubborn little thing, she follows him, places a hand on his face “Dean, I saw him too.”

She’s lying. He knows she’s lying. There’s absolutely no way she could be telling the truth. Cas is dead and he saw it, he saw it! He was the cause for it.

All his fault. If he hadn’t brought him along, if he hadn’t gone away, if- if- if…

Cas is not alive. He already dealt with the fact that he was dead. He knows this for sure. He _knows_ this.

«»

_Dean stands in the hospital’s waiting room while Cas is in surgery and he waits. He sits and bounces his legs, he paces and he waits. There’s nothing he can do about it, but Cas is strong. Cas is going to make it. He knows he will._

_He gets up again and starts pacing, sits down and looks around to the other people waiting for their loved ones to be okay._

_Rings his hands together and rubs them on each other some more, like there’s still blood there. There’s not. One of the nurses made him get cleaned up._

_There’s blood on his jeans though from where he tried to wipe his hands off when the ambulance first came to where Cas bled out. He can still smell it, has to resist the urge to gag._

_He clasps his hands together and closes his eyes. He prays._

_For the first time in a long while he actually prays to God._

_Taking a deep breath he starts in his head._  Dear God in Heaven or wherever the Hell you are. I- I wanted to ask you something. And I know that I probably don’t get to make any requests after the shit I’ve done, but- Cas does. Cas is good. He is dedicated, he helps rescue kittens, damn, he even helps old ladies cross the street. Please, Dear God, I know I messed him up, I know that. But please let him live. Please please please, let my friend live. I need him. I don’t think I could go through all this shit without him. So please. Throw whatever shit you want at me, but let him live. Castiel is _good_ , he is righteous, he has so much heart. Please, whatever you need, just let him be okay. Just this once, please.

_He’s startled off his silent prayer by a strong hand wrapping around the collar of his shirt and hauling him up. His eyes snap open to find ravenous blue ones staring back, full of murder._

_“What the fuck are you still doing here, Winchester?” Michael barks at him._

_Dean swallows down, wraps a hand around Michael’s wrist “I’m waiting for Cas to get out of the OR,” he tries to keep his voice steady, facing Michael head on._

_“You think you have that right after getting my little brother shot?” he barks a laugh before shoving Dean hard, sprawling him on his ass “I fucking knew something like this would happen,” he sneers “I told Castiel to not hang around people like you. Fucking worthless piece of garbage. You got him shot! This is on you! Now get the fuck out of here before I call the police.”_

_Dean is shaking by now, trembling with fear and rage and it’s dangerous. He can feel a buzz just beneath his skin telling him to smash and destroy, throw punches._

_“No,” he states, getting himself back up._

_“No?” Michael raises a skeptical eyebrow and throws a look over his back, before Dean bat an eye, Lucifer and Michael are both on him, hauling him up and dragging him out of the hospital, he tries to fight the off, but Lucifer’s twisting his arm so far behind his back he’s sure he might dislocate it. Michael has a hold on his other arm. He grunts and makes himself trip over his feet as the brothers escort him out and throw him on his ass on the parking lot floor, the asphalt scratching his palms when he lands._

_“Get the fuck away. And if Castiel makes it out of this one don’t for a minute think you are ever getting near him again. He wouldn’t want you anyway,” Michael spits out before turning on his heel and going back inside, stopping only to tell the guard at the door not to let him._

_Dean gets himself back up and clenches his fists together, grits his teeth. He needs to smash something right now. He wants to get drunk and break things._

_He was absolutely zero doubts that what happened to Cas is his fault, but still he’ll go after who pressed the trigger._

_Dean’s next actions damn his life for the next five years._

_He finds Ruby and shakes her a bit until she tells him where that little rat Azazel is, and when she does, guns be damned, Dean goes after him._

_He finds him at a bar, drinking down and joking about mere hours after shooting Cas. He goes to him and he beats him. He beats him to an inch of his life, not going further just because the police showed up and restrained him, threw his ass in jail._

_Dean’s eighteen. He gets convicted like an adult and gets his ass thrown in jail._

«»

_Raphael comes to visit him when he’s in jail._

_Dean sits fidgeting slightly, the cold metal of his cuffs pressing down on his wrists, keeping him bound._

_As soon as the third Novak enters the room, his stomach drops. He always hated that calculating stare Raphael carried around, like he’s gauging the best moment to place his foot in front of you so you trip and fall face first on the floor._

_“Dean,” he says coldly, not even deigning to sit “Michael and Lucifer refuse to see you, so I’ll be brief. Castiel died in the OR. I sincerely hope you are happy with what you accomplished,” he says, voice flat, before turning around and exiting._

_Dean has a mental breakdown. He is carried to the infirmary where some buff doctor declares him a sissy and sends him back to his sell with a slap on the ass._

«»

The door next to him opens slowly and _he_ steps out. Black shoes, black suit and a white shirt. Blue tie to go with his eyes and the tan trench coat. Mop of messy hair and wide eyes like Castiel himself as seen a ghost.

He sees the man in front of him take a deep breath, before expelling the air out in one sentence “Hello, Dean.”

“Cas,” he whimpers “you’re dead,” Dean tells him “Raphael said you were dead. I saw the blood.”

Cas’ eyes widen and he shakes his head vehemently “Raphael said you didn’t want to see him. He said you were doing life in jail for killing Azazel.”

Dean shakes his head. He looks at Jo and presses his lips together, almost afraid to ask “Can- can you see him?”

Joana Beth, bless her soul, grips Dean’s shoulder and nods “You’re not crazy,” she whispers, helping him get up.

Dean stays himself on the wall next him, not completely trusting his legs to support him.

He takes a step forward carefully “I didn’t kill Azazel. The cops got to me before I could.”

He’s taller than Castiel, not by much, just that extra one or two inches that he could tease him about when they were younger, he’s tanner too, but that is to be expected.

In the years since he last saw Cas he’s grown out, filled up even though you can’t quite see with all the fabric covering him. His cheekbones stand out a little bit more, strong jaw and scruffy cheeks, the ever chapped lips. He remembers those lips. Knows how they feel against his own even if he only kissed Cas that once.

«»

_The Impala’s hood is warm under his bottom and there are delicious burgers set in a bag right on top of his legs. Cas is smiling that dopey smile he uses when he’s entering burger comma and his content._

_He feels good right now. Like he hasn’t felt in a while._

_“Fries?” he offers, shaking the bag ever so slightly in Cas’s direction. He groans but dips his hand in the bag and pops some in his mouth. Dean chuckles and follows Cas’ example even if he ate about three cheeseburgers already._

_“This is nice,” Cas sighs._

_Dean hums his agreement._

_“We should do this more often,” he takes a deep breath “and, uh, maybe we could do it for real, like a date or something.”_

_Cas’s head snaps to him so fast Dean winces in sympathy. He quirks his eyebrow at him, lips pressed._

_Shit “Or you know, not. Just an idea. Dumb idea, forget I’ve ever said anything. We can just go to arc-“_

_Cas surges forward, pressing his lips against Dean, effectively shutting him up. It’s quick and chaste, just the pressed of Cas’ chapped lips against his, before he’s pulling back and beaming the most beautiful smile Dean has ever seen._

_“I’d love to go on a date with you.” he whispers, nose bumping against Dean’s._

_“Good, that’s, uh, good,” he breaths out, trying to get his heart rate under control again. Cas said yes, holy hell Cas actually said yes to him._

_He’s smiling like a goddamn fool, he just knows it! And he doesn’t mind one bit, not when Cas is so close to him, lips mere inches away and all he had to do was tilt his head just so and they’d be touching again._

_He’s about to do it. So close to doing it when his phone starts shrilling from his pocket. He picks it up with a curse._

_God fucking damnit, after years waiting to get up the nerve to finally ask Cas out and Sam had to cockblock him._

_“What?” he grumps._

_“Dean,” Sam’s shaky voice comes through “I- I need help.”_

«»

Cas smiles at him, it’s a small thing but it’s there and he’ll be damned if it doesn’t feel like a balm to his soul. He wants to reach out, make sure that it’s real. That it isn’t all just a fucked up dream, but he doesn’t because _what if it’s all a fucked up dream?!_

It’s messed up and selfish, but he wants to keep it for a while if he’s just dreaming. Normally his dreams of Cas are bloody and painful. It’s rare the occasion they’re happy with a smiling Cas.

“Dean, I have to go back inside,” Jo urges, squeezing his shoulder once “yell if you need me or something.”

He nods distractedly, eyes focused on his Cas.

“How-“ it sounds so stupid to ask this, so fucking stupid “How have you been?”

Cas dips his eyes down and honest to God scuffs his shoe on the floor “Good. I’ve been good. Got a degree in child psychology and decided to come back. Thought that maybe I could, uh, visit you or something. But you seem… okay.”

Dean rubs the back of his neck “Yeah, got my GED and uh a minor in biology while I was in jail. Got out some time ago and started working here. They were kind enough to take me in,” he mumbles.

“You always did like tigers,” Cas nods with a small smile.

“You always did like picking people’s brains,” he throws back.

Cas chuckles, low and throaty.

“So, uh, would you like to talk… somewhere quieter?”

“We should go to Missouri’s. She, uh, I need her to be there,” having his therapist mediating his little chat with Cas will probably be for the best. Dean’s tendencies for break downs agree with that too.

“Missouri?” Cas tilts his head just so, like he used to do. It’s such a familiar gesture that Dean could cry.

“Yeah, she’s my therapist.”

Cas presses his lips and nods, taking another step forward, hand reaching over for Dean’s shoulder.

Dean takes a deep breath in and holds his hand, half waiting for Cas to fade away as soon as his hand touches the fabric of Dean’s shirt. It doesn’t.

Cas squeezes his shoulder and Dean breathes out, immediately reaching out and wrapping his arms around Cas’s torso. Anchoring himself there because it’s real and Cas is here. CAS IS HERE.

That’s all he needs, all he’s ever needed.

He knows that perhaps he should be mad, because maybe Cas should have gone to Dean in jail and see it for himself, he should be furious with Raphael and the entire Novak family, with himself for believing the lie, with Sammy for being such a dumb shit at age fourteen and shooting up cocaine or whatever he was on, with his dad for spending his hard earned money, involuntarily having Cas shot, but he’s not.

His head is filled with CasCasCasCasCasCasCasCas. And now that he has him back, hopes he has him back, he’ll be damned if he lets himself be angry about that. Not anger can come later, right now he just wants to sit down and talk to Cas, ear his whiskey voice tell him where he had been, what happened during all this time and reassuring himself that this is real.

But first, he’s going to hug the living crap out of this man, until the ache in his chest goes away and he can really breathe again for the first time since he was eighteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The little freakout Dean had is called psychological trauma and one way to get yourself through an attack is to focus on the moment. Sit down and ground yourself. Pick three things red or blue and focus on them.
> 
> Also comments and complains are much appreciated so I know where I can improve. :)


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know I am an horrible horrible person and that this has been a WIP for a little while, but I come to you with a new and final chapter since I don't wanna go to WIP hell. I heard they don't have wifi there *shudders*

Missouri is _not_ happy with the situation. To say that she gives Cas a bit of a hard time would be an understatement. Hell, Dean’s still not sure how she didn’t start throwing spoons at Cas’ head.

After the initial hostility, Missouri hugged Cas and ushered both of them to the living room, ordering them to sit their asses on the couch while she makes them some tea. Telling Dean to shut the hell up when he makes a face at the mention of the watery leaves beverage.

She comes back with a tray filled with three steaming cups of tea and little cookies. Castiel thanks her politely, humming contentedly at the first sip whilst Dean eyes the thing like it’ll bite him. He was never a fan of tea.

Missouri looks completely unimpressed with his behavior and just glares Dean into picking up the tea cup and taking a sip.

In return, he pops three cookies in his mouth just to spite her, like the little shit he is.

Cas elbows him in the arm and gives him his best you’re-being-rude-again look.

Dean almost chokes on his cookies because damn he even missed that look. Missed it fucking bad just like he missed everything else about Cas.

“Dean,” Missouri starts gently, demanding his attention. He painstakingly takes his eyes off of Cas and stares at her, still dead afraid that this all is just a trick his psyche is playing on him so he scoots over, makes sure that his and Cas’ thighs are touching and that Cas won’t disappear.

If he can feel it, it’s real.

He takes a deep steadying breath, gives Missouri the tinniest of nods.

She gives him a tiny smile in return, “So, apparently you were wrong and Castiel is alive and in good health. What does this mean, for you?”

Dean puts his teacup down, glances at Cas who’s looking right back at him.

“It means that I can carry on.”

“Weren’t you carrying on before?”

Dean takes a another deep breath, lets his eyes drop, “I was getting by. There’s a difference.”

He can see Missouri nodding just in his peripheral vision, “Do you think you’re ready to face the fact that you didn’t kill your best friend?”

A palm settles on his knee and squeezes, Cas is looking at him with sadness and regret but mostly hope. He looks just as beautiful as Dean remembers him.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, carefully placing his hand on top of Cas’.

“Do you wanna face your reality now?”

Dean nods.

Cas turns his palm and laces their fingers together.

“My name is Dean Winchester,” he starts, “I’m in Tyler, Texas. The time is kind of irrelevant right now. I got out of jail about a year and a half ago. My mom died when I was four. My dad died while I was in jail,” he stops; Cas squeezes his fingers, “and it wasn’t my fault. Bobby and Ellen are alive and good. Jo is alive and thinking about getting her masters degree. Sammy has a girl and is happy and healthy. I’ve got my Baby. I’ve got a new bike to fix,” he looks at Cas, gives him a smile, “I’ve got Cas. I was bad, but I’m better and I owe Cas a date, so I’ll be okay.”

Castiel is smiling blindingly at him.

The fact that he gets to see that smile again makes it better. It means that this time he actually means it and _believes_ it when he says it wasn’t his fault. Maybe not entirely because things don’t just go away like a snap of fingers. It’s not that easy but he’ll get there.

Cas is alive. He’s going to get better. He’s going to be fine.

He takes another steadying breath, feeling his entire world tilting back into its axis.

_He’s going to be okay_.

Missouri is smiling at him as well, looking fond and a little bit proud.

“You’re going to be okay,” she reassures, “Now get out of here boy and take your man into a proper date. Lord knows it’s about time.”

Dean looks at Cas expectantly.

Cas tugs him up by his hand, still smiling, still happy and leads him out of the door.

Dean stops Cas just by his Baby, because honestly he can’t help himself. He’s waited years for this and Cas is _here_ and he’s _alive_.

So he just frames his face with his hand, feeling the stubble prickle his palms and kisses him breathless. Kisses him like he’s suffocating and Cas is his only source of oxygen.

Cas kisses him back just as desperately, clutching at Dean’s shirt and pulling him closer.

They only pull back when they need actual oxygen, their foreheads resting against each other while they catch their breaths.

“Come on, Cas,” he breathes out, “I owe you a date.”

Cas gives him his best smile, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes and makes his entire face light up.

And it’s right then that Dean knows he’s not going to be only okay. He’s going to be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter and it is quite short since it's the epilogue. I know you guys were expecting more and I'm really sorry I couldn't deliever but I accidentaly started some big or at least medium projects so I want to focus on those and finish all my WIPs too.
> 
> If some day I feel like adding to this then I will, but don't hold your breath guys.
> 
> [Come complain to me if you want.](http://crossroadswrite.tumblr.com)


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